


Mistakes

by QueenImpossibleXIII



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, Gen, I don't know how to do tags, Irene doesn't stop flirting, Post-Season/Series 02, Sherlock is hiding, What did Sherlock do for years?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenImpossibleXIII/pseuds/QueenImpossibleXIII
Summary: My brain thought what happened in between series 2 and 3? Sherlock is working and being a child. I don't know how to do summaries either but have fun reading!





	

Sherlock sat patiently in the office, the white chair was too soft, too bouncy, but it would just be another thing he would have to endure. He glared at the clock, patience wasn't a virtue of his but neither was giving up. " Mr Holmes?" A voice enquired. Sherlock stood up and painted on his best smile. " That's me," he replied as he sauntered towards the owner of the voice. A frail old woman stood in front of him, she looked up at him and smiled a little. " Come on in dear," she said as she led him into a dimly lit room. From what he could see, she was normal, her room was plastered with momentos, personal little tibits, her life; her desk too. The photos stood at one end, while the papers stood at the other. She was right handed then. Even so, it was all too easy for him. Everything was laid out perfectly, exactly where he would look to make deductions. If he was right, then he shouldn't have made any deductions at all. But then, she always knew what others liked.

"So," she began. " I believe you were interested in a few of my paintings Mr Holmes." 

"Yes," he replied rather coldly as he carried on scanning his surroundings. " I have reason to believe that you have a painting named The Final Problem."

"Ah, yes! It is the most expensive of my collection and it was very hard to come into possession of," She explained, her eyes were glinting. " No." 

"Pardon?" She started "What do you mean no?"

"The painting, it may be expensive but it is not in your possession," he stared at the walls around her. "In fact, I don't think that painting actually even exists," he smiled. 

She shook her head and sighed. "I'm not going to ask you how you know," she started pulling of the wig she was wearing, her back straightened up. " I don't want you to insult my intelligence."

"Actually, I already knew that information. Homeless network. " he replied. " So this is what you've become then, a frail, scared woman."

"Hello to you too Sherlock!" She walked to her desk and swept the papers strewn across it. " Dinner?" 

"You know my answer," he said as he sat down opposite her. "Why did you bring me here? You've never wanted to see me in person, so it must be personal." 

"Oh Sherlock, the information I have is not something you want others to know." She laughed, "So I wanted to give it to you in person." She proceeded to pull up her dark brown curls into a bun, all the while scanning her drawer for something. "I'm here now so.." He began

"Not too fast, be patient Sherlock." She teased as she pulled out a file. Sherlock put a hand out but Irene pulled the file away. "Before you take it and leave, I saw John.. He looked well." She said. Sherlock gritted his teeth. " Well, good. I however don't have the time for this. Just hand me the file."

She placed the brown folder into his hands. He stood up and walked towards the illuminated corridor. "Sherlock, look at the eyes." He turned and walked, the file tucked into his coat. 

...

He opened the door to Molly's flat, she was out so he could study the file in peace. He placed it on the oval dining table, he knew what the file was on. Moriarty had left a note before he confronted Sherlock. It was a theory that Sherlock had, if Moriarty died then a new spider would have to take his place in the web, Moriarty would have to convey who was to be King after his demise. If it was left digitally, it could be traced but obviously Moriarty was too clever for that. No, his note would be hand written and hidden somewhere. Almost two years of dismantling the web gave him a good idea where it could be. However, there were others out to get it too. The Woman however, knew what people liked and so got the information first. She owed Sherlock, so now the information was his. Finally, he had his last piece. 

Sherlock opened up the folder and lying within was a photograph of a painting. The Final Problem. It was beautiful, the brush strokes were precise, the colours merged together giving the painting an eerie life to it. Sherlock, however, could not find comfort in the perfect rendition of Moriarty. His eyes grew wide. So the alleged painting was real and it was something to do with Moriarty's note. He scoured the rest of the file, searching desperately for information. A note within the painting? Behind the painting? His efforts were fruitless. He threw the folder down in frustration. " I need to smoke," he muttered to himself as he started searching, he had a feeling that Molly had hidden them but she wasn't as good as John. He soon found them in her favourite nightgown but a hand quickly snatched them away. "Sherlock! How many times?" Molly. "No smoking in my flat!"

"I need to smoke!" He protested "Have you-"

"Don't even start! I am not falling for that again. What's so bad anyway?" She interrupted. Sherlock looked at her and motioned for her to follow him. Reluctantly he handed over the picture. "Oh my God!" She exclaimed as she scanned over it. "I'm trying to figure out a message...from him to his followers, it's the last piece." He explained as he slided the packet of cigarettes towards him that she had put on the table. Slap! Once again the cigarettes were on the table. "What makes you think that the message is in this?" She asked as she stared at the photo. "I didn't," came the whispered reply. "The woman came into possession of it, she handed it to me'" he said. 

"The woman? This Irene Adler person Mycroft told me about?"

"Yes," he muttered. "Mycroft told you about her?"

"Yeah, sorry that was meant to stay secret." She replied as she looked up at him. Sherlock sighed in amusement. "Wait!" He exclaimed putting a hand out. "What did you say when you first came in?" He asked."No smoking in my flat! It's the thing I- " 

"Yes, after that Molly, about the painting" he urged. 

"Um, eh...oh yeah..what makes you think that the message is in this?" She replied

"Yes! I didn't," he said excitedly. 

"Yeah you said that already."

"No! I had been looking around the painting, not at the painting because I didn't assume that Moriarty himself painted it. What if he did?!" He exclaimed, speaking at 1000 words per minute. "What do you mean?" She asked as she handed the painting back to Sherlock's outstretched hands. "Look at the painting, is there anything odd about it, any imperfections? Moriarty plans everything to the last stroke so if he wanted someone to notice, what's the thing that everyone notices first?" 

"Their mistakes!" Molly was starting to get it! Sherlock smiled and nodded as he put the picture down again and grabbed Molly's laptop from the kitchen counter and pulled up a photograph of Moriarty, it was difficult, hardly any photographs existed that showed his face fully but of Richard Brook there was plenty. Combined with Sherlock's memory, it would be easy work. Sherlock placed the laptop in front of him and pulled the file towards him as Molly rushed to his side, overlooking his shoulder. "Sherlock," Molly tapped his shoulder "Shut up Molly, not now...I'm trying to concentrate!" He shook his shoulder. "No Sherlock, the last time I looked I'm sure he didn't have golden specks in his eyes."

"What?!" Exclaimed Sherlock as he looked at the eyes of the picture and then at the screen. Molly was right, he didn't have specks in his eyes let alone golden ones. Sherlock pulled out his magnifying glass, Molly watched, biting her lips. "Molly, they aren't golden specks. They're minuscule numbers. Binary code. " he said as he pulled a piece of paper out of the drawer and started writing. "But that's impossible, no one could paint such small numbers." Molly contradicted. "We have to believe the evidence before our eyes, he either has a very talented painter friend or he is a genius." Sherlock smiled as he finished scribbling on the paper. His eyes glinted. "Gotcha!" 

He whipped up his coat that he thrown carelessly on to the sofa. "Molly, thank you. I won't be back until late, possibly later. Don't wait up." He said as he walked out of the flat and pulled out his phone. 

"Mycroft? We have the last piece. I need a ticket to the East."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please do leave me feedback!


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